


we're like creatures of the wind

by FakePlastikTrees



Series: Winds of Change [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:32:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13366719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: They are definitely still not a thing.





	we're like creatures of the wind

**Author's Note:**

> Follow-up to 'the way we talk'
> 
> \--thnx

He watched them talk in her office. The door was closed and she was laughing at something he’d said. She hadn’t seen him come in and he’d briefly considered interrupting them, kicking him out in a way that was only professionally hostile. 

 

But he sat in the bullpen instead, pretending to listen to Rollins filling him in on the latest case. 

 

She’d stopped talking at some point, though he had not realized it, and had watched him silently until finally thinking it long enough. “Counselor?”

 

“Hmm?” He blinked and turned to her. She was smirking in that knowing way she had. “I’m sorry, what was that?” 

 

“You okay?” 

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“They’re not--it’s none of my business, but I don’t think that’s far from wrapping up. Just--so you know.”

 

“Hmm.” 

 

When he looked closer, their interactions seemed clipped--distant. He hated that he was taking pleasure in it but he couldn’t help how gratifying it was to witness the disintegration. “How unfortunate.” 

 

Rollins chuckled and shook her head beside him. 

 

As Olivia walked Tucker out of her office, Rafael jumped quickly to his feet and gathered his things, knowing fully well he had been spotted. 

 

“Rollins, thank you for catching me up. I will uh--I’ll get you those warrants.” 

 

He caught Olivia’s eye on his way out, and felt the tiny jolt of electricity that was always there between them. Before he reached the elevator, he texted her ‘I like the glasses.’ 

 

++++++++++

 

He was worked up.

 

He always got this way when he discussed strategy with her. It was late. His assistant was long gone and the Chow Mein and Pad Thai they had ordered for dinner was long gone and the six pack of beer was missing four bottles. 

 

Olivia sat back comfortably and watched him pace around his office, talking and gesturing as he bounced ideas off of her. His jacket was gone, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he had a deeply determined look on his face--coiled with a bit of anger; she liked him angry. It showed he cared about his job, about the victims. 

 

Olivia pressed her knees together and squirmed a little in her seat. 

 

“What do you think?” He asked.

 

She sat up and breathed in deeply. “Yeah, I--it sounds great.” 

 

“I feel good about this one, Liv.” 

 

He drank a large gulp of beer, smiling against at her against the bottle. “You know, you’ve got to stop looking at me like that if we’re going to pretend nothing’s happening.” 

 

Olivia rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the smile on her face. She felt hot. It could have been the beer--maybe, maybe not. “I should go.” 

 

She got up to clean up their mess, but ever the gentleman, Rafael beat her to it, taking every single thing she picked up from her hands. “I’ve got it,” he said and grabbed her hand to keep her from continuing. 

 

She laughed, “Alright, alright.” But he held her in place, and when she glanced up at him, the jolt was definitely there; in her chest; between her legs. All that intensity from earlier was no suddenly directed at her and she couldn’t handle it. Her next words came out in a forced whisper, “I’m going to go, Rafa.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

She nodded, gathering her strength before stepping away from him and grabbing her coat from his desk, where she’d dropped it earlier. She slipped it on and paused for a moment before turning around. He was watching her; she leaned back against the desk. 

 

“You ever think about retirement?” She asked.

 

He laughed and quickly answered. “No. I’m just getting started.” He winked. 

 

She rolled her eyes. “I hate you.”

 

“Why do you ask? You’re not--”

 

“NO. No, no, I’m not. I mean, I considered it, but, I don’t think I’d know what to do with myself.” 

 

“Good,” he said as he drank the last of his beer, the twinkle in his eye still dangerously inviting. “I like having you around.” 

 

He walked slowly toward her. He was testing her; maybe waiting for her to make a move for the door, giving her time to leave. But she couldn’t. The smouldering look in his eye was hard to look away from. Instead she scoot back and sat on the desk; her heart was hammering in her chest. 

 

He walked until her knees stopped him, and when they did, he nudged them apart. It didn’t take much. He stepped between her legs, pausing, waiting, and without realizing it she had braced the edge and scoot closer to him, spreading her legs even wider. Her chest grazed his, but he made no attempt to move or kiss her.

 

When his hand found her leg she closed her eyes. He danced his fingers across and down the inside of her thigh, gently caressing her, working her up until her hips jutted forward. She could feel his lips against her cheek, his breath hot as he asked, “You want me to touch you.” 

 

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t say yes but didn’t want to say no either. She tightened her grip on the ledge and exhaled shakily baring, down against the flat surface for some relief but if wasn’t enough--and he was smiling; she could have punched him.

 

“It wouldn’t take long,” he added, exhaling against her ear, drawing the softest of moans from her as he traced the apex of her thigh with his thumb.

 

“You make a good argument,” she panted, eyes still closed, her knuckles white from holding onto the desk. 

 

“If you think that’s good, wait til you see what else I can do with my mouth.” 

 

She began to pant then, her chest rising and falling faster; she was this close to whimpering. She gasped instead with the first swipe of his finger against her crotch. He pressed and rubbed against the denim until he’d somehow found her clit. 

 

One hand released the desk and found his shoulder, gripping it tightly.

 

“Does that feel good?” 

 

She nodded her head, suddenly lacking all speech ability.

 

His free hand gripped her thigh for leverage and added pressure to his ministrations once he’d found a spot that made Olivia shiver and moan into his neck.

 

She was pulsating, thrusting against his hand until the friction wasn’t enough and her breathing was so ragged she could hear the sound of it fill the room. She wouldn’t kiss him; she wanted to, desperately, but wouldn't’ because this couldn’t happen. But her body had other plans; it leaned into him, searched for him. She was sure if she’d just unzipped his pants, if he touched her just once…

 

He kissed her chest, bit her breast--the feel of his breath hot against her skin was driving her slightly insane. She held his hand, ground down against it, and in a moment of clarity, pulled it away and held it at her side. 

 

He held her as they both caught their breath, stood very still until she slowly pulled away, grazing his lips as she went, and slid off his desk. Her legs were numb and her body was still tingling; she could have sworn her face was still flushed, but she needed to get out of there before something she would really regret happened. 

 

At the door, she stopped, and with her back to him said, “I uh, I’m going to call you later.”

 

“Okay.”

 

********

 

He couldn’t sleep. It was one in the morning and he knew she wouldn’t call, but he was too wired. He couldn’t get Olivia out of his mind. He kept replaying the whole thing; the way she felt, how she sounded; the way she held onto him. How she spread her legs and how she would inch toward him. He slid his palm down his face and groaned up at the ceiling. 

 

On TV, Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz were arguing about something hilarious but he couldn’t remember what. 

 

Just as he’d given up and shut off the television, Rafael’s phone ran. 

 

“Hello,” he greeted her with a smile as if she were there.

 

“I think I’m going to end things with Tucker.”

 

Something he wouldn’t dare classify as joy perked him up. “Oh?”

 

“But I want to be very clear; I’m not doing it for you. Things are just--not lining up with him. So. I just wanted to tell you that.”

 

“Understood.” 

 

“Good.” 

 

“You know, Olivia, Paris is nice, but I own a house in Barcelona near a place that makes Paella that will make you cry.” 

 

She laughed; it was like music to his ears. “Is that right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What are you doing right now? Did I wake you?” 

 

Making his way to the bedroom, he replied, “No-no, I was up watching I Love Lucy.”

 

“I love a cultured man.”

 

“Well, maybe I’ll sing Babaloo to you sometime.”

 

“Oh. I’m all a quiver.” 

 

He gave a chuckle and settled into bed.

 

After a moment’s pause, he heard her sigh heavily and say, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

 

It was quiet, could have been a whisper, but it sent a wave throughout his entire body nonetheless. 

 

He wanted to invite himself over, or invite her over. He wanted to finish what they started earlier in his office, but whatever inner turmoil Olivia was currently in the midst of, Rafael understood it truly had nothing to do with him, and he would never forgive himself if he allowed his impatience to get in the way. So, instead, he chose his words more carefully. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”

 

“Good.”

 

“So, uh, how’s my man Noah? Working on his card skills?”

 

“I really wish you hadn’t taught him to Poker.” 

 

“Rollins taught him poker, I only taught him how to win,” he corrected, listened for her response and decided right then that waiting couldn’t be so bad. 


End file.
